


Noir

by dreamofhorses



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Noir, Detective Noir, Film Noir, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Murder Mystery, RPF, Screenplay/Script Format
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-03-30 18:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13957236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamofhorses/pseuds/dreamofhorses
Summary: This was something really different I decided to try. After seeing a old photo of Timmy in vaguely '40s attire, I kicked around the idea of a 40's-set story, and suddenly realized you couldn't have something like that without film noir.So, this is a screenplay for a film starring Armie and Timmy as fictionalized, time-shifted versions of (roughly) themselves. I'm hoping to actually complete this one day but in the meantime please enjoy excessive voice-over, a cameo by everyone's favorite family friend Nick Delli Santi, and verbose descriptions of the lighting.As always, if I never Slacked I'd never get anything done.





	1. In From the Rain

FADE IN

INT. DETECTIVE AGENCY - HAMMER & DELLI SANTI - NIGHT

A sparsely furnished detective’s office. Threadbare couch against one wall, desk with an overflowing ashtray and a couple of drawers missing. ARMIE HAMMER, 31, a cynical and tight-lipped detective, leans back in his worn leather desk chair, pushing it almost to the tipping point before pulling it back from the brink. This is a strategy he practices in many areas of life. He smokes. He’s thinking, but we don’t know that yet. He stares at the chair across from his, the one meant for his clients. It’s seen better days, but then so have most of his clients. It’s raining outside. A neon sign across the street throws shadows from the blinds onto the opposing wall as we hear:

ARMIE (V.O)

It all happened on the night I’d decided to give it up. I was gonna fire my secretary, dump my girl, and run off to the Caymans. Looking back, maybe all I was trying to do was ditch the old ball and chain, and the rest was just for show. I hadn’t felt alive in so long I’d started looking for death just to see how it felt. Smoking too much, picking bar fights, standing at the edge of the cliffs out in Malibu and just staring straight down. Life’s funny that way. When you go trying to get rid of it, the one thing that can save you walks right through your door.

 

The office door FLIES OPEN, and in rushes TIMMY CHALAMET, 22, 150 pounds soaking wet, and he’s soaking wet right now. He ran here from somewhere, and whatever he ran from may still be chasing him. ARMIE stands to greet him, extending a hand for a handshake. When TIMMY reaches out, crumpled wet cash FALLS from his coat sleeve onto the ground.

ARMIE (gathering the cash)

You’d better hang on to this. You may not think you need it now, but that pretty much guarantees that someday you will.

 

TIMMY gratefully accepts the money. He’s thin, nervous, but charismatic. You’re drawn to him like you’re drawn to a funhouse mirror with only one angle that can make everything look normal again.

 

TIMMY

You’ve got to help me.

 

At that moment ARMIE’S partner, NICK, RUSHES into the room hot on TIMMY’s heels. NICK’S the same age as ARMIE but more open, lighter. No gates that stay locked behind his eyes. NICK’s tie is a little askew, top button of his collar undone. He MAY have just been somewhere he’d rather not tell ARMIE about.

NICK

I’m sorry, Armie, I was having a smoke downstairs and he just--he ran right by me, I didn’t have a chance to stop him--

 

ARMIE (gently)

It’s all right, Nick, I’ll handle it. It’s fine.

 

NICK’s expression shows us that this gentleness is WAY out of character for ARMIE. Looking worried, he nods and backs out of the room, closing the door behind him. ARMIE’s attention returns to TIMMY, who is standing in the middle of the room shivering and staring blankly out the window. ARMIE crosses to the coat rack by the door and removes his own weather-beaten trenchcoat. He carefully removes the dripping black wool coat TIMMY is wearing. TIMMY jumps a little at ARMIE’s touch. ARMIE drapes his own coat over TIMMY’s thin shoulders. TIMMY sighs a little, settles into the coat, turns his head and nuzzles the shoulder of it, inhaling. TIMMY seems unaware that he’s even doing any of this, much less of its effect on ARMIE. ARMIE’s beguiled, perplexed. 

 

ARMIE (softly)

Why don’t you have a seat and tell me what seems to be the trouble?

 

TIMMY does as he’s told, taking a seat in the beat-up chair across from ARMIE’s desk. 

 

TIMMY (whispering)

They think I killed someone.

 

Realization dawns on ARMIE’s face. He knows the case TIMMY must be talking about. He OPENS ONE of the remaining desk drawers and REMOVES a bottle of Scotch. The label’s worn off, through use and not age. He REMOVES a tumbler from the same drawer and POURS three wide fingers into the glass. A beat. He REACHES back into the drawer, REMOVES a second glass, and POURS one slim finger into the bottom for himself. He SLIDES the fuller glass across the desk to TIMMY.

 

ARMIE

Here, you’re gonna need this. If you have another it’ll even start to taste expensive.

 

TIMMY quirks his head toward ARMIE. He has zoned out again, staring out the window, and is now unsure if he’s allowed to laugh, if that was indeed a joke. ARMIE’s smile tells him it’s OK, and a small giggle ESCAPES TIMMY’s lips. He SIPS the whisky, SETTLES into the chair a little, PULLS the coat tighter around him.

 

ARMIE

So this is about the Chambers broad, eh?

TIMMY (relieved)

You know about that?

ARMIE

Socialite found dead at a cocktail party last week? Everyone thought she fell down the stairs till they found a crumpled page of the phone book in her throat. That doesn’t happen by accident.

 

TIMMY is relieved to finally be speaking about this to someone, anyone. When he SPEAKS the words pile onto each other like the cigarette butts in ARMIE’s ashtray.

 

TIMMY

It was at my family’s place. I knew her in passing but we weren’t close. We dated the same person once, but even that was a long time ago. I’d barely said hello to her that night, and then later on I needed the phone, and she was using the one in the hallway. I waited and waited, and then tried to ask her nicely to wrap it up so other people could talk. She was so rude, acting like it was her place, her phone, her party. I snapped at her a little, maybe. We were in the hallway, everyone saw. I can’t help it, I’m terrible at hiding my emotions, people knew I was upset, and she was just grinning at me, saying the cruelest things under her breath but still smiling, but I walked away! I swear I walked away! I never even saw her again that night until...afterward.

 

TIMMY takes a deep breath. This has been weighing on him for some time, and he’s not that strong.

 

ARMIE

So people are saying you did it? Because you argued with her about the phone?

TIMMY

And no one else there had a reason...they were all just drinking and...everyone saw us fight…

ARMIE

This is open and shut, kid. Just tell me where you were when she was pushed down the stairs. I read the papers, they found her at 11 pm. Where were you from 10 to 11? I’ll get witnesses, statements, we’ll wrap this up before breakfast tomorrow.

TIMMY

I...I can’t tell you that.

 

As TIMMY says this last line he HOLDS eye contact with ARMIE, BITING his lip nervously. It’s MELTING ARMIE, and he’s fighting off all his demons not to show it. TIMMY reaches up and RUNS a hand through his wet hair, PULLING it a little when he reaches knots and tangles. TIMMY breaks eye contact, STARES at his feet while messing with his hair.

 

TIMMY

If I can’t tell you where I was that night, if I just can’t, but I swear to you that I didn’t kill her, can you still help me?

 

TIMMY’s attention snaps back to ARMIE, he’s staring at him fully, unblinking.

 

TIMMY (plaintive)

Can you help me?

 

MEDIUM C.U. on ARMIE. His face does not change, but his eyes soften gradually, ever so subtly.

 

MEDIUM SHOT, TIMMY from ARMIE’s POV. TIMMY at first regards the camera openly, questioning, then stares at his hands as he starts to fidget, then takes in the room, its objects, what they mean about its occupant. Over this we hear:

 

ARMIE (V.O.)

The last time I’d seen anything like him I was either in an art museum or the holding cells at the LA County Jail. You’d be surprised how much of the same thing you find in both places. The last time I’d felt something like he was making me feel was--well, never, really, but if you mixed my first glass of Scotch whisky with my first sunset over the Pacific you might come close. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life it’s to walk away from people who make you feel something you’ve never felt before. And if there’s another thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that I never take my own advice. That’s what I was thinking. What I said was--

 

ARMIE (brusque, interrupting the V.O.)

Sure, kid. I’ll take the case.

 

TIMMY’s eyes light up. FADE OUT.

 


	2. At the Chalamet Mansion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie questions Timmy's family about the night of the murder and makes a fateful decision.

FADE IN.

EXT. CHALAMET MANSION - MORNING

OVERHEAD SHOT: A gated mansion on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. A sedan makes its way up the curved driveway as we hear:

ARMIE (V.O.)  
Morning looks different when you don’t sleep. It turns from a gorgeous broad who wants to buy you a drink to a cop asking why you’re somewhere you don’t belong. I was no stranger to not sleeping, but usually it was because of who was in the bed beside me, not who wasn’t. I didn’t know if I wanted to take the kid to the nearest barbershop, a fancy restaurant, or just a hotel with hourly rates, but staying up all night talking it over with Johnnie Walker hadn’t helped me figure it out. I hoped when I asked his family some questions about the night of the murder, I might get some answers about why I couldn’t get him out of my mind.

 

Armie, barely visible at this height, EXITS the car and MAKES FOR the mansion’s front door. An almost dizzying zoom FOLLOWS HIM, reaching the top of his head just as he KNOCKS at the door. 

SMASH CUT TO: 

INT. - CHALAMET MANSION - MORNING 

NICOLE RUSHES to answer the knock coming from outside. She’s in her late 40’s, professional, efficient, and right now very, very angry. She FLINGS the door open and GESTURES to ARMIE briskly, showing him inside. 

NICOLE  
I can’t thank you enough for taking Timmy’s case. The police have made their minds up, it seems, and no one else wants to help him.

 

While NICOLE is speaking, ARMIE takes in his surroundings. The mansion is expensive, yet tasteful. Priceless antiques decorate the larger spaces, but the smaller decorations are personal, intimate, familial. ARMIE’s eye wanders to a sideboard in the foyer, lined with family photographs. ONE PHOTO CATCHES his eye. 

C.U. - A COLOR PHOTOGRAPH 

It is a candid shot, TIMMY on his back in the grass on a sunny hillside. He has raised himself on his elbows and is in the midst of speaking or laughing. ARMIE has never seen TIMMY this carefree.

 C.U. - ARMIE 

ARMIE PROCESSES this photo, what it means about TIMMY, what it means to him, and something SHIFTS in his expression. He may not have noticed it, we barely see it, but it has changed.

 NICOLE (O.C., FAINT)  
We’re willing to pay several times your usual rate, of course. 

 

ARMIE (almost a whisper)  
My usual rate is ten dollars a day plus expenses. I couldn’t take a penny more.

 

MEDIUM SHOT, NICOLE, ARMIE’S POV 

NICOLE has appeared at ARMIE’s side, wondering what’s taking so long. 

NICOLE  
Oh, isn’t that a wonderful photo of Timmy? That was on our vacation to Italy last summer. A little town called Crema. Off the beaten path a bit, but we had such a lovely time. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Timmy happier.

 

A BEAT. ARMIE REMAINS engrossed in the photo.

NICOLE (hesitant)  
Won’t you come into the parlor? I’ve brought everyone there for you so you can talk to us all at once. 

ARMIE shakes his head. Whatever he’s just REALIZED will have to wait. He FOLLOWS NICOLE into the parlor. 

INT. - CHALAMET MANSION PARLOR - DAY 

The room is so TASTEFULLY DECORATED it HURTS. Against the fireplace LEANS MARC, early 50’s, handsome in a way you look twice to see and then never forget. He’s HOLDING a martini glass, but it’s still full and he TWIRLS the stem in his fingers. Clearly he’s more soothed by holding the glass than drinking from it. In a plush chair SITS PAULINE, late 20’s, blazingly intelligent and protective. She HOLDS a notepad as if she expects to do the questioning. ARMIE CLOCKS HER immediately as someone you CANNOT FOOL.

NICOLE  
This is my husband Marc, and my daughter Pauline. Both of them were here on the night of the party and that dreadful...incident. We’ll all be happy to answer your questions. 

ARMIE barely KNOWS where to begin. NICOLE takes a seat on a long brocade couch and ARMIE, following her lead, SITS at the other end. He PULLS a notepad from his pocket and goes for the least intimidating person in the room.

ARMIE  
Marc, can you tell me your whereabouts between 10 and 11 pm on the night of the cocktail party where Miss Chambers was murdered? 

MARC SIGHS, PLACES the martini glass on the mantel, turns to answer the question. He SEEMS, if anything, SUSPICIOUSLY well-prepared.

 MARC  
Certainly. Nicole and I were in the ballroom around 10, and I remember we danced together shortly after 10 because the band started playing “The Way You Look Tonight”. That was the first song we danced to at our wedding. Whenever I hear it I either dance with Nicole, or wish I was, if she’s not there.

 MARC and NICOLE EXCHANGE meaningful glances. 

MARC  
After we danced, Nicole and I had the bartender pour some martinis and we smoked on the patio. It was a lovely overcast night, fog rolling in off the ocean, that kind you only get in Malibu. We were outside chatting (at this NICOLE BLUSHES slightly and STIFLES a giggle). I’m afraid we heard none of the unpleasantness between Timmy and Miss Chambers, and we didn’t come back inside until we heard someone scream. That was when...they found her body. 

ARMIE  
Well, that explains your whereabouts as well, then, Mrs. Chalamet? (at NICOLE’S nod) Pauline, can you tell me where you were between 10 and 11 pm that night? 

PAULINE is no fool. SHE WRITES ARMIE’s questions and her own answers down as she speaks.

 PAULINE  
You know, my attorney should be here. That’s the law. You’re lucky I love Timmy enough to break the rules for him. I watched Maman and Papa dancing. Ashton had asked me to dance, he’s been our family friend for ages, but _mon dieu_ , have you ever tried to actually hold a conversation with him? He can’t tell Sartre from Schopenhauer and he thinks Man Ray is a marine animal. There’s no way I was saddling myself with _that_ for a whole song. After that song I ordered a gin and tonic and was on my way to the library when I heard Timmy arguing with that...woman. She had been tying up our phone all night, and I can’t blame him. What if someone else needed to check on their children or had a medical emergency? That Chambers woman lived her whole life on the phone. Anyway, after their conversation ended, quite amicably I might add, I saw Timmy go into the parlor and Miss Chambers headed upstairs. Our friend Stephane showed up and he and I drank gin and tonics in the foyer and talked about the newest piece Mr. Pollock has just shown in New York. It was quite a shock to me when Miss Chambers came tumbling down the staircase. She didn’t seem to have had that much to drink when I’d seen her last, but I suppose with her...figure, the alcohol goes to your head rather quickly. Me, I like to keep my wits about me.

 This last statement is accompanied by a POINTED LOOK at ARMIE. He has been WRITING her answers assiduously and is now EXHAUSTED at having kept up with her pace. He clearly needs TIME TO PROCESS all of this. 

ARMIE  
Well, thank you so much for your answers. This has been a tremendous help. 

HE IS ATTEMPTING to ignore PAULINE watching him very closely as he makes his way to the parlor door.

 NICOLE  
Here, I’ll show you out.

 

SHE ESCORTS ARMIE back through the foyer. His eye is CAUGHT yet again by the PHOTO of Timmy, still the only color object in the B&W film. ARMIE drags his feet a bit, then reluctantly PULLS AWAY to shake NICOLE’s hand.

 ARMIE  
This was incredibly helpful. Your family was very open and informative. I wish everyone had a family like yours. I’ll be in touch after I speak again with your son. 

NICOLE SMILES WARMLY at ARMIE and gently CLOSES THE DOOR behind him. 

INT. - HAMMER AND DELLI SANTI OFFICES - HALLWAY - AFTERNOON 

ARMIE wearily CLIMBS the stairs to his office. The Chalamet family encounter has, if anything, MADE THINGS more complicated for him. He OPENS the door leading from the dingy hallway into his office’s reception area. A DOOR to the left reads “NICK DELLI SANTI, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR”. It is slightly ajar, and light spills out into the waiting area.

ARMIE  
Nick? I’ve got something I’d like you to do for me. 

There is LAUGHTER from within the office. Is there...MUSIC PLAYING within? When he hears ARMIE’S VOICE, NICK sticks his head out of the office. The music STOPS. 

NICK  
Sorry, Armie, what can I help with? 

NICK now STEPS entirely out of his office and into the waiting room. NICK’S OFFICE DOOR is closed behind him by someone we cannot see. NICK’s hair is disheveled, and his shirt is untucked on one side. 

ARMIE  
I’ve got that Chalamet kid’s home address on the check he gave me as a retainer. I want you to talk to people he knows, people he parties with. Find out if there’s anywhere else he’s known to sleep, crash out, when he doesn’t want to come home at night. The people no one wants to admit they know are always the ones who know the most themselves. I’m gonna check the kid’s apartment. 

ARMIE moves toward his office door, engraved with “ARMAND HAMMER, PRIVATE DETECTIVE”. FADE OUT. 

EXT. - SKID ROW STREET - NIGHT - RAIN

A particularly dangerous block of a particularly bad neighborhood. ARMIE STROLLS the sidewalk, looking for an address, but TRYING to hide the fact. Curiosity can get you killed on a street like this. He STOPS in front of a run-down two-story row house, CONSULTS a slip of paper from his pocket. This is the place. Over this we hear:

 ARMIE (V.O.)  
After work I went looking for the Chalamet kid’s address. I needed to talk to him, bounce his family’s stories off of him and see what stuck. Read in his face where he flinched at a fact or tried to hide surprise or suspicion. Typical gig in my line of work, but I won’t pretend I minded the idea of staring at the kid’s face for an hour or two after a hard day. When I found his place my first thought was I had to get him out of there. That building wasn’t fit for a kid like that to sleep in. It was barely fit for the cockroaches under the stairs to live in. And maybe it was pity, maybe it was this crazy idea of mine called ethics, maybe it was just the desire to save one shining golden thing from being melted by the slow burn of life. But as soon as I saw where he’d been laying that beautiful head at night I knew I wouldn’t let him sleep there a minute longer.

 ARMIE MOVES to a PAY PHONE at the corner. He picks it up, dials “0”. 

ARMIE  
Yes, operator? Englewood 1983 please. Yes, I’ll hold. <pause> Timothee? Is that you? Listen, this is a horrible connection so I won’t talk long. I’ve spoken with your family and I’d like to talk to you about what they have to say. Could you come by my place in an hour? 1300 N. Harper Avenue. Go around the back, and knock twice. Softly. I'm hiding from a couple of people who like to knock loud.

 

C.U. - ARMIE

  
He realizes the import of what he’s about to say.

 ARMIE  
And if it’s not too much trouble, pack a bag. Like you’d do if you were going away for a few days. <pause> I’ll see you soon.

 

FADE OUT.


	3. By the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie tries to restore some stability to Timmy's life while not completely destabilizing his own.

INT. ARMIE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

If you thought Armie’s office was sparsely furnished, you should see his living room. The camera roams the space to orient us. This does not take long. There’s a beat-up brick fireplace on one wall, a threadbare sofa that once was either a Japanese floral print or solid black-and-white stripes and there’s not a furniture restorer in Los Angeles that could tell you which, and a single wooden chair by the fireplace. It lacks pillows, which seems in keeping with the room’s general lack of softness. As the camera settles in one corner to observe the action, ARMIE enters from the kitchen, a bottle of Scotch and two mismatched glasses in hand.

 

ARMIE (V.O.)

It had been so long since I’d had company that I’d had to borrow a second Scotch glass from a neighbor. I never thought of my apartment as shabby until I pictured that kid walking into it. There were statues in the kid’s house that cost as much as the whole building I lived in. So I swept the floor. Found two dimes and a missing cufflink. From now on I might do it more than twice a year. Set up the bed with these nice satin sheets an old girlfriend left at my place. Turns out I slept a lot better when she wasn’t in them. It was just because the kid was rich. If I offered to take him in I could at least try to replicate his lifestyle. It definitely wasn’t because he was the first thing in a long while to make me think life wasn’t all hard edges, and I was trying to pay him back for that with all the softness I owned. Nope, it definitely wasn’t that. Or at least that’s what I told myself. (A BEAT. ON-SCREEN, ARMIE TAKES A DRINK.) But by now you’ve probably noticed how little I can be trusted.

 

A KNOCK at the door. ARMIE PLACES the Scotch on a rickety linoleum table and OPENS the door. TIMMY ENTERS, damp and shivering. ARMIE’S eyes ROAM to the window. It does not appear to be raining. TIMMY crosses one hand over his face to TUCK damp hair behind one ear. At the sight of his guest’s movement, ARMIE SPRINGS to life. He POURS DRINKS for them both at the table, HANDS ONE to TIMMY, and reaches for his bag.

 

ARMIE

Here, let me take your bag. Are you...it stopped raining hours ago. How did--let’s get you dried out. Have a seat.

 

TIMMY SITS abruptly on the unpadded chair by the fireplace. HE YELPS at the discomfort. ARMIE HAS PLACED Timmy’s bag by the fireplace and is stacking wood for a fire. HE LOOKS UP at the noise from his guest.

 

ARMIE

That chair is really great for motivating me to drink in bed instead of beside the fire. Try the couch.

 

TIMMY OBEYS, settling into the couch more fully than ARMIE expects, given its obvious lack of upholstery.

 

ARMIE

How are you still wet when it’s not raining outside?

 

TIMMY

I had hung my coat outside to dry when you called, but it was so soaked through that it didn’t dry before I went out again. And my hair is...well, I was in the bath when you called and then I rushed out because...that apartment is so tiny and drafty and lonely, and I’d talked to my family and they said you came by and were so kind and interested, and now you were asking me here because you want to help me? I don’t come across that very often and I...I guess I just wanted to be with you. Instead of there. All of a sudden. (A BEAT.) Is that weird?

 

ARMIE

Do you know how happy I am that you’re sleeping here? I saw where you’re living. I wouldn’t let my mother or my worst enemy sleep there, much less someone like you...(realizing he is about to say too much)...an important witness and suspect in a crime.

 

ARMIE CLEARS HIS THROAT and STANDS from the fireplace. There is now a roaring fire and TIMMY leans forward toward the warmth. ARMIE SITS in the uncomfortable chair by the fireplace and GRIMACES before he can think to hide it. TIMMY SEES, and SMILES. HE PATS the couch next to himself.

 

C.U. - ARMIE

HE REALIZES that if he sits beside TIMMY, he will be starting something there’s no turning back from.

 

MEDIUM SHOT - TIMMY - ARMIE’S POV

The firelight PLAYS over TIMMY’S drying hair and casts interesting shadows on his face. Selective coloring gives highlights from the fire to his hair, almost invisible in the low light. TIMMY SIPS his drink, MAKES a tiny face at the bitterness, assuming no one sees, then looks toward ARMIE and SMILES in embarrassment when he realizes ARMIE HAS SEEN. THE SMILE would turn this whole black-and-white world to color.

 

C.U. - ARMIE

HE SURRENDERS.

 

MEDIUM SHOT - ARMIE’S LIVING ROOM

ARMIE JOINS TIMMY on the couch. HE DOWNS HIS DRINK all in one go. HE’S GOT A FEELING he’ll need it.

 

ARMIE

So, I saw your family’s house. Nice place, if you like sleeping in museums. What possessed you to walk out on that for a place that probably only has hot water on Thursdays?

 

During TIMMY’s answer, ARMIE CROSSES to the table as if to pour another drink. HE WATCHES TIMMY SPEAK, looks back and forth between the bottle and his glass, and finally BRINGS THE BOTTLE back to the couch, SETTING it on the floor between them.

 

TIMMY

At my family’s place, I always feel so...watched. And like people are expecting something from me. And maybe I don’t want that every minute of every day. Maybe sometimes I want to do things that only I know about, you know?

 

C .U. - ARMIE

HE KNOWS. BOY, DOES HE.

 

MEDIUM SHOT - ARMIE AND TIMMY ON THE COUCH

ARMIE REFILLS TIMMY’s drink. When TIMMY SIPS again, he SHIVERS. ARMIE CROSSES to a coat closet and REMOVES a blanket. HE BRINGS it to the couch and WRAPS IT around TIMMY’S shoulders, tentatively RUBBING TIMMY’S arms to warm him.

 

ARMIE

Better now?

 

In response, TIMMY LEANS his head on ARMIE’s shoulder. ARMIE is surprised, FLINCHES just a bit. The touches he’s used to come in bar fights or darkened bedrooms. Then HE RELAXES. TIMMY SIPS his next drink more quickly, growing comfortable. HE YAWNS, MAKES a tiny sound of sleepiness, NUZZLES ARMIE’s neck with his nose.

 

ARMIE (softly)

Here, I’ll bring a pillow.

 

ARMIE DISAPPEARS into the bedroom, returning with what was probably once considered a pillow. HE FOLDS IT awkwardly, trying to find a configuration that would make it comfortable for his guest. HE GIVES UP, brings it to the couch as-is.

 

TIMMY has STRETCHED OUT, taking up the entire couch, which is admittedly not too difficult. TIMMY’s eyes are closed. ARMIE ASSUMES he’s sleeping and TRIES to slip the pillow beside TIMMY’s head without waking him. TIMMY STIRS, raises his head so that ARMIE can settle the pillow under it. ARMIE SMILES fondly at him, STANDS again to head for his own bedroom. TIMMY REACHES, encircles ARMIE’S wrist with his hand.

 

TIMMY (sleepily)

I don’t want you to go.

 

ARMIE is completely powerless at this. He SETTLES onto the couch behind TIMMY.

 

TWO SHOT - ARMIE AND TIMMY ON COUCH

 

TIMMY (falling asleep as he speaks)

You know, that night...the night everyone is asking about...I was with someone...who said they loved me...but you’re...you’re nicer to me...hmmm...that’s funny, huh?...

 

TIMMY’s eyes close fully. HE SLEEPS. SLOW ZOOM TO:

 

C.U. - ARMIE

 

HE MOST DEFINITELY IS NOT SLEEPING. WE SEE the wheels turning behind his eyes as we

 

FADE OUT.


	4. On the Pier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie and Timmy spend an idyllic day at the Santa Monica Pier, while Nick does some detective work and makes an unexpected discovery.

EXTERIOR - SANTA MONICA PIER - DAY - OVERHEAD SHOT

 

As the camera slowly ZOOMS DOWN to find ARMIE and TIMMY along the boardwalk, a voice-over conversation between ARMIE and NICK fills us in on the reason for this trip.

 

ARMIE (V.O.)

Nick, I need you to do something for me. The night of the murder, Timmy said he was with someone. Sounds romantic. Thus, not my area of expertise. You always seem able to...find this sort of thing out. Can you take the day to check your sources? See if anyone saw him go home with someone? I’ll keep him occupied, make sure he doesn’t end up someplace he’ll be recognized, just so you can question anyone who might know him. I’ll take him someplace I’d never normally go.

 

NICK (V.O.)

Oh, someplace fun and happy, you mean?

 

On NICK’S end of the line, A GIGGLE. Probably female, but hard to tell. It is FOLLOWED BY another giggle, probably male. Possibly NICK. Possibly not. How many people are at Nick’s place, anyway?

 

NICK (V.O., shushing)

Sure, Armie. I can do that. Ring the office at 5pm sharp and I’ll tell you what I find. Just keep the kid occupied until then. Talk to you this evening. (speaking away from the phone) No, hey, what are you doing? Wait a second--<giggles, call disconnnects>

 

By now we have ZOOMED to find ARMIE and TIMMY on the boardwalk of the Santa Monica Pier. TIMMY EATS from a bag of shelled pistachio nuts while ARMIE FIGHTS with a stick of cotton candy. Gentle jazz or swing, in a Django Reinhardt vein, plays over the following shots.

 

EXTERIOR - SANTA MONICA PIER - DAY - TRACKING SHOT

We follow ARMIE and TIMMY in a medium shot as they stroll the boardwalk toward the Ferris Wheel. ARMIE GETS his mouth around some of the cotton candy. A WISP of it STICKS to his cheek. TIMMY GLANCES around at the uncrowded pier, then REACHES to wipe the candy from ARMIE’S cheek. This is probably the gentlest touch ARMIE has received in some time, especially from someone he’s not sleeping with. ARMIE rubs his cheek long after TIMMY’S hand disappears, as if he can recall the touch by force of will. At the same time, ARMIE NOTICES TIMMY’S furtive glancing before their touch. It indicates a certain...familiarity with secrecy, and is a feeling ARMIE KNOWS WELL.

 

EXTERIOR - SANTA MONICA PIER- CARNIVAL STALL- DAY

ARMIE is throwing baseballs at bottles in a carnival booth. The game is CLEARLY RIGGED against the player, yet somehow ARMIE is winning. FOUR BOTTLES in a row fall and the CARNIVAL BARKER makes a pained face and GESTURES to a wall of PRIZES. TIMMY chooses a stuffed TURTLE and NUZZLES the turtle’s face with his nose. ARMIE STARES OPENLY at this until TIMMY looks up and catches his eye, at which point ARMIE SUDDENLY FINDS an important detail to seek on the ground.

 

EXTERIOR - SANTA MONICA PIER - ON THE FERRIS WHEEL - SUNSET

ARMIE and TIMMY sit alone in a Ferris Wheel car. The cars on either side of them are empty. The music slowly fades out so that we can hear their conversation. All the while, TIMMY FIDGETS with the turtle, RUBBING his thumbs over its feet or STROKING its plush shell.

 

TIMMY

I love this, Armie.

 

ARMIE

What?

 

TIMMY  (gesturing to the ocean, his hand ending up back on the turtle)

_ This. _

 

ARMIE

Eh, it’s not bad. Just the pier. It’s always been here, but I feel like I don’t come out here as often as I should. It is nice though.

 

HE SMILES at TIMMY encouragingly.

 

TIMMY

Why did you bring me here, though? You didn’t have to do this. Your house is fine, we could have stayed there. You have music, and the radio, and good liquor…

 

At the suggestion that his liquor is high quality, ARMIE SMILES fondly, RUFFLES TIMMY’S hair. He STARES at the sun setting over the ocean as he speaks.

 

ARMIE

I was tired of watching the sunset alone. Anything that exists in more than one person’s memory feels more real, and I was starting to feel like I was imagining my own life. You know the feeling?

 

TIMMY (softly)

Yeah, I do. (A BEAT.) So are you happy I came here?

 

He LEANS HIS HEAD against the back of the Ferris Wheel seat. ARMIE has not yet removed his arm from ruffling TIMMY’S hair and thus he ENDS UP with his arm around TIMMY’S shoulders. NEITHER of them seems to mind. There is a very, very COMFORTABLE SILENCE. THE CAR stops at the top of the Ferris Wheel and SWAYS gently while ARMIE and TIMMY WATCH the ocean and the sunset.

 

ARMIE (softly, staring at the sunset)

I would kiss you if I could.

 

At this, TIMMY’S eyes FLICKER briefly toward ARMIE. A small SMILE PLAYS over his face. ARMIE, for his part, keeps STARING at the sunset a while longer. HE DARES to sneak a glance at TIMMY. TIMMY rolls his head along ARMIE’S arm so that THEY FACE EACH OTHER. ARMIE’S eyes FLIT to the empty cars on either side of them. HE REALIZES he could kiss TIMMY, if he wanted to.

 

ARMIE

Tim, can I kiss you?

 

TIMMY (whispering)

Yes, please.

 

ARMIE LEANS IN to kiss TIMMY. The sunset behind them creates lens flare. The MOVEMENT within the Ferris Wheel car causes it to ROCK GENTLY. The CAMERA MOVES ALONG WITH IT. Why shouldn’t it? 

THIS IS A KISS WHICH SHAKES THE WORLD.

 

After a moment, the Ferris Wheel car JOLTS of its own accord and starts to MOVE again. Reluctantly, ARMIE ENDS the kiss. TIMMY rubs his foot against ARMIE’S as the car rolls to the ground.

 

EXT. - SANTA MONICA PIER - TWILIGHT

ARMIE TRIES not to stare at TIMMY as they CLIMB out of the Ferris Wheel car and back onto the boardwalk. HE FAILS. TIMMY pets the TURTLE he is still carrying, TURNS to ARMIE, WIGGLES the turtle at him in mock conversation. ARMIE smiles in spite of himself.

 

ARMIE

Now I remember why I never come here. A day in the sun always makes me want to drink Scotch on the rocks all night and read a nice quiet book, away from the crowds. What do you say, kid?

 

He PUNCHES TIMMY lightly on the shoulder, leaves his hand there a bit too long, clearly using it as a pretext to touch TIMMY any way he can.

 

TIMMY

As long as I’m not part of that crowd you’re trying to get away from.

 

ARMIE (softly)

Never.

 

He and TIMMY EXCHANGE furtive smiles.

 

ARMIE

I’ll meet you at the entrance, I just have to make a quick phone call.

 

TIMMY WANDERS ahead, playing with the turtle and buying a bottle of soda from a concession stand. ARMIE WATCHES him go until he REALIZES how long he’s been staring, SHAKES his head, SNAPS himself out of it. He MAKES HIS WAY to a pay phone at the side of the boardwalk and DIALS his office. IT RINGS. MANY TIMES.

 

NICK (V.O., on phone, breathlessly)

Hammer and Delli Santi. Nick speaking.

 

ARMIE

Nick, it’s me. I’m checking in to see what you found out.

 

NICK

Oh, hey, Armie. Yeah, I definitely have some news for you. (Away from phone, to someone else in the room) Yes, yes, I’ll be done in a minute. Don’t start without me! (Back to Armie) So I found one person who saw your Monsieur Chalamet at about 10:30 on the night of the murder. There’s a little roadhouse on the Pacific Coast Highway, right at the base of that marathon route the Chalamets call a driveway. That roadhouse has a waitress, name of Shirley. She and I go way back, you could say. (Away from the phone) No, no, it’s ancient history, don’t you worry! (Back to Armie) I had to eat a nice steak dinner and tip 200%, but finally Shirley tells me she’s seen a lot of the Chalamet kid lately. The owner gave strict instructions, if Chalamet comes in he gets a private dining room, a free bottle of champagne to start, and top notch service. Shirley’s served him a few times, he’s always real polite but his date can be hard to deal with, she says. They definitely came in a little after 10 on the night of the party and left just before 11. Finished off the free champagne and some beef tartare, but something seemed off. She said the Chalamet kid seemed nervous.

 

ARMIE (processing this)

Nick, I’ve been to the Chalamet place. Those folks are loaded, but nowhere near enough for this kind of treatment. And out of the blue like this? Something’s fishy.

 

NICK

That’s what I said! So I pressed Shirley on it. Had to get a dessert, buy her one too, but eventually she talked. Turns out it wasn’t Chalamet who was the cause of the special treatment. It’s who Chalamet was coming in with. Turns out he’s been dating Charles Perry’s kid.

 

ARMIE

Charles Perry? The senator? No wonder they’ve been keeping it hush-hush. Charles Perry’s daughter has been married for years. I think she’s even got a son they’re thinking will be in politics someday.

 

NICK

Armie...that’s not what Shirley said. You’re right, Perry’s daughter is married. Happily. But Charles Perry’s got two kids, and the other one’s not married.

 

CLOSE-UP - ARMIE ON PHONE

 

NICK (V.O., OFFSCREEN)

Armie, Timmy Chalamet’s the secret lover of Charles Perry’s  _ son _ .

 

FADE OUT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dreamofhorses42 on Tumblr, come say hi!


	5. On the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Just like with the bottle, I saw the end coming. And I still didn’t stop._
> 
> Last month was crazy for me so with some much needed encouragement I have reawakened this muse and have two scenes for you today. By way of apology, have the closest I can make to smut in a film noir script.

EXTERIOR - ARMIE’S CAR, DRIVING - CONTINUOUS - REAR PROJECTION

 

ARMIE drives TIMMY back to his house along the winding Los Angeles streets. He STEALS glances at TIMMY as we hear:

 

ARMIE (V.O.)

Well, it had been nice to shut off the voice in my head for a little while. A full bottle of Scotch was the only thing I’d ever found that could do that before. And then I saw that kid smile. Really smile, like he’d just seen the sun for the first time and no one had told him yet that every day it goes away.

 

CLOSE-UP - INTERIOR - ARMIE’S CAR - TIMMY IN PASSENGER SEAT

 

TIMMY HOLDS one hand out the window of ARMIE’S car, WAVING it in the passing breeze. The other hand absently CARESSES the stuffed turtle still in his lap. HE SMILES, distantly. PULL BACK TO:

 

MEDIUM SHOT - ARMIE’S CAR - SIDE VIEW

 

We FOLLOW ARMIE’S line of sight along the bench seat as he GAZES at TIMMY. TIMMY TURNS sharply, CATCHES ARMIE’S GLANCE. His smile BECOMES wider, genuine. His HAND MOVES from the turtle to ARMIE’S leg, slowly, tentatively. He DRAWS HIS HAND gently up ARMIE’S leg to REST it on his upper thigh.

 

TIMMY

Am I offending you?

 

ARMIE DRAWS a single, shaky breath, TRIES to keep his eyes on the road. HE SUCCEEDS. Barely. As he drives:

 

ARMIE (V.O.)

When I pour the first drink from a bottle of Scotch I can already see the last one coming. That’s just my way with anything dumb enough to let me take my fill. And this kid? He might have been smart in a lot of ways but he opened up to me. And I walked right in. So I guess we were dumb together. That can look a lot like romance sometimes. Just like with the bottle, I saw the end coming. And I still didn’t stop.

ARMIE CATCHES TIMMY’S eye.

 

ARMIE (whispering)

No.

 

SMASH CUT TO:

 

INTERIOR - ARMIE’S APARTMENT - EVENING - CONTINUOUS

 

WE HOLD on the closed door to ARMIE’S apartment. IT FLIES OPEN, TIMMY TUMBLING IN, THROWING the stuffed turtle onto a chair. HE IS FOLLOWED IMMEDIATELY by ARMIE, who SLAMS the door behind him, LEANS against it. TIMMY WHIRLS, PRESSES against ARMIE, KISSES his neck, BEGINS unbuttoning ARMIE’S dress shirt. ARMIE REMOVES his suit jacket, THROWS it on the back of the couch. TIMMY UNBUTTONS ARMIE’S shirt to the waist, BEGINS PULLING at his undershirt and then SHIFTS to fumbling at ARMIE’S belt buckle. ARMIE CHUCKLES SOFTLY.

 

ARMIE

Just pull it.

 

TIMMY TUGS at the layers of ARMIE’S clothing, SCOWLS impatiently when they don’t cooperate.

 

ARMIE

Or I’ll pull it.

 

HE REMOVES his shirt, FOLDS it carefully, LOOKS for a place to put it. Finding none, HE TOSSES it carelessly onto the floor, PULLS TIMMY toward him for a kiss, BACKS HIM toward the couch while still in his undershirt. ARMIE LEANS TIMMY backwards until he’s seated on the couch, then STANDS, REMOVES his belt, TOSSES it aside as well. ARMIE RUNS HIS HANDS slowly through TIMMY’S hair, MEMORIZING the texture. TIMMY CLOSES HIS EYES, TILTS his head, BITES his lip. ARMIE CROSSES to the record player besides the fireplace, THROWS the switch. A scratched version of “MOONLIGHT SERENADE” begins, faintly. TIMMY is STARING in confusion from the couch.

 

ARMIE

In case we make noise. The landlady always looks for signs and she’s not going to find any.

 

TIMMY’S gaze DARKENS. HE STRETCHES full length upon the couch. ARMIE RETURNS to him, STRADDLING HIM on the couch, JUST STARES for a moment. HE WILL RETURN to this memory many times, and he KNOWS IT. As he LOWERS HIMSELF to kiss TIMMY, the phone on the table beside the couch RINGS INSISTENTLY. ARMIE REACHES to it, PULLS THE CORD from the back of the phone, and LOWERS HIMSELF onto TIMMY, WRAPPING HIM in his arms. THEY KISS DEEPLY. ARMIE BEGINS to remove his undershirt while TIMMY WATCHES, propped on his elbows, and then REMOVES his own shirt clumsily, LOSING buttons along the way. THEIR EMBRACE GROWS DESPERATE, NEEDY. COLOR FADES INTO THE IMAGE AS IT DISSOLVES TO:

 

**INTERTITLE CARD: “MEANWHILE…”**

 

INTERIOR - CHALAMET MANSION - MARC AND NICOLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

 

TITLE CARD FADES TO A BLACK IMAGE. A PHONE RINGS. A bedside lamp SNAPS ON, illuminating a ringing TELEPHONE and MARC AND NICOLE’S BED. NICOLE WAKES, SHAKES her head, REACHES for the ringing PHONE. 

 

NICOLE

Chalamet residence. Nicole speaking.

 

The VOICE on the other end of the phone is raspy, sinister.

 

SUSPICIOUS VOICE (O.S.)

Listen up. I don’t have much time so I’ll make this quick. Yes or no questions only. Do you understand?

 

NICOLE SITS UP straight in bed, instantly alert.

 

NICOLE

Yes.

 

SUSPICIOUS VOICE

Everyone thinks your son killed the Chambers woman. You’ve got a detective looking into this already. Am I right?

 

MARC has now SAT UP on the other side of the bed and is WATCHING WITH CONCERN as NICOLE ANSWERS.

 

NICOLE

Yes, you’re right.

 

SUSPICIOUS VOICE

But your son didn’t kill her. And you know that already. Right?

 

NICOLE (shakily)

Yes, I know that.

 

SUSPICIOUS VOICE

We know who did it. And we think you know too. Is that why you’ve got that detective looking in all the wrong places?

 

NICOLE (terrified)

Y-yes.

 

SUSPICIOUS VOICE

Then I think it’s time we had a little talk. Why don’t you come to Musso and Frank’s tomorrow at about 2pm? There’s a booth in the back corner that no one else can see. Someone will be there in a red hat. Drinking a martini. Sit down and hear what they have to say. Might want to bring about 500 dollars cash in case you decide you don’t want anyone else to hear it afterwards. Sweet dreams.

 

THE LINE GOES DEAD. NICOLE LOOKS at MARC in fear.

 

NICOLE

Marc, they--they know.

 

MARC

It’s probably time we tell that detective.

 

NICOLE SIGHS in resignation, NODS. SHE PICKS UP the phone, DIALS. IT RINGS INSISTENTLY, then DISCONNECTS. 

 

NICOLE (puzzled)

The line went dead.

 

SHE AND MARC EXCHANGE worried glances as we FADE OUT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dreamofhorses42 on Tumblr, come say hi!


	6. Out the Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In this moment, he CHOOSES TO HOPE._
> 
> Oh Armie. Don't you know how these things always end for the hard-boiled detective who opens his heart?

INTERIOR - ARMIE’S APARTMENT - THE NEXT MORNING

 

WE HOLD on ARMIE’S front door. The bedroom door is visible at the side of the frame. THE DOORBELL RINGS. ARMIE OPENS the bedroom door. His hair is rumpled. HE WEARS a silk robe. It probably cost more than everything else in the apartment put together, and speaks to long evenings spent drinking in it and pretending to be elsewhere. ARMIE OPENS the door to admit NICK, who looks put-together and innocent by comparison. This dynamic is clearly unusual. ARMIE PANICS inwardly, just a bit, and glances at his belt, still crumpled on the living room floor, as well as various other items of clothing which lead towards the bedroom. NICK FOLLOWS ARMIE’S GAZE, SEES all of this same evidence, and DRAWS the correct conclusion. IT DOES NOT BOTHER HIM IN THE SLIGHTEST. NICK CROSSES to the linoleum table, which holds a bottle of liquor with a whisper of life left in it.

 

NICK

The Chalamets have been trying to reach you all night, Armie. They called the office first thing this morning, said your phone was out of order. I told them there must be a good reason.

 

TIMMY CHOOSES this exact moment to appear in the bedroom doorway. HE SEEMS NOT TO KNOW that ARMIE has company. HE WEARS ARMIE’S dress shirt from the day before, his own boxer shorts, and nothing else. HE RUBS LAZILY at his hair, staring at the ground, before looking up to catch NICK’S eye. NICK is in the process of taking a drink of whiskey straight from the bottle. NICK FINISHES his drink, GRINS.

 

NICK

Good morning.

 

TIMMY (shyly)

Good--good morning.

 

TIMMY SIDLES across the room into the tiny kitchen,RUNS a glass of water, and TAKES IT with him back into the bedroom. ARMIE has been WATCHING these events at an utter loss for how to proceed. NICK waits until TIMMY has returned to the bedroom before helping his partner out.

 

NICK

See, I knew there was a good reason.

 

NICK CROSSES to the couch, PREPARES to sit down. HE FINDS that he must move an undershirt out of his way. This, too, he handles as if he is brushing his teeth or filling out a tax form. ARMIE SITS next to NICK in obvious relief.

 

NICK

What they wanted to tell you though, Armie, is that they got a phone call last night trying to blackmail them about this Chambers murder. Seems the family knows more than they let on.

 

ARMIE (muttering, slightly bitter)

They always do.

 

NICK

The caller asked them to bring cash to Musso and Frank’s this afternoon if they didn’t want the word to get out. They’re hoping they can avoid that whole messy situation. They’d like you to meet with Pauline at Griffith Observatory in a couple of hours. Seems they don’t trust their phones anymore, and I can’t say I blame them.

 

ARMIE

Of course, of course. I’ll be there at noon.

 

SMASH CUT TO:

 

INTERIOR - ARMIE’S BEDROOM - MORNING

 

TIMMY HIDES behind the bedroom door. He suddenly SEEMS not at all sleepy and slow as he did earlier. The conversation from the living room can be heard as a murmur in the distance.

 

CUT BACK TO:

 

INTERIOR - ARMIE’S LIVING ROOM - MORNING

 

ARMIE AND NICK have STOOD from the couch and CROSSED to the front door.

 

ARMIE

Thanks for coming to tell me this, Nick.

 

NICK (quietly)

I could tell this case meant a lot to you. Now go help that kid.

 

NICK INCLINES his head toward the bedroom, SQUEEZES ARMIE’S shoulder fondly, LETS HIMSELF out the front door. ARMIE ADJUSTS the belt of his robe, SIGHS. HE SPOTS the bottle of liquor on the table. NICK has kindly left a single finger of whiskey in the bottom of the bottle. ARMIE DRAINS the bottle enthusiastically, then CALLS into the bedroom.

 

ARMIE

Tim? Do you want breakfast? There’s--

 

HE CROSSES to the kitchen, opens the tiny fridge. HE GRIMACES at what he finds and RECONSIDERS his plans.

 

ARMIE

There’s a good diner on the corner. Best omelettes in town. My treat.

 

HE GETS no response. A beat. In this moment, HE CHOOSES TO HOPE. HE CROSSES to the bedroom, LOOKS through the doorway.

 

INTERIOR - ARMIE’S BEDROOM - DAY - ARMIE’S POV

 

THE BEDROOM IS EMPTY. A filmy curtain blows into the room from the window leading to the fire escape. 

 

REVERSE SHOT - ARMIE IN THE BEDROOM DOORWAY

 

HE SHAKES his head in resignation.

 

ARMIE (to himself, trailing off)

That last drink always comes too soon…

 

As ARMIE WATCHES the curtain blowing, we hear:

 

ARMIE (V.O.)

And yet, exactly when you expect it to.

 

FADE OUT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dreamofhorses42 on Tumblr, come say hi!


End file.
